Advanced Communications
by planetofmars
Summary: <html><head></head>The librarian had just witnessed a murder. AU.</html>


**Title:** Advanced Communications.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Pairing:** Morgan/Reid.

**Summary:** The librarian had just witnessed a murder.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Criminal Minds, nor any of these characters.

Advanced Communications

Spencer had had an intense series of dreams lately, mostly involving shadowed figures and distorted voices calling his name. This morning was no different, and as he groggily turned his head to the right and opened his eyes he could barely make out the bright red numbers that indicated that it was 7:30am. Spencer shot up, jumping over a mess of books and entered his kitchen to see if his clock had possibly been wrong, but the clock on the stove only read the same time back at him. Spencer couldn't understand how this could have happened to him, he had set his alarm last night like he always did.

Looking at the small device, Spencer noticed that he had not set his alarm clock for 6:00am, but 6:00pm. Shaking his head, Spencer rushed to get ready. The slender man knew he had no time to shave or to shower, and was barely able to put on some deodorant. Shelly, the other librarian at the University, would be furious with him. Add his fellow students who were already impatient by nature having to wait longer than necessary, and he could tell it was going to be a _glorious_ Monday morning. To make matters worse, Spencer's only means of transportation had already left nearly a half hour ago.

With a deep breath, Spencer clutched his satchel closer to his body and set off to walk to work. Spencer was, however, grateful that he had no classes scheduled for the day. The morning was gray and quite windy. Walking alone through the city was something Spencer liked to avoid as much as he possibly could. The possibility of crime made his skin crawl, but he trudged on knowing this was the only way to get to where he needed to go.

Spencer turned down an alleyway he knew would take a good fifteen minutes off of his commute. Thick brows furrowed, however, as he could faintly make out an argument. Slowing down, Spencer tried to listen to what was going on, but realized the language the two men were speaking was not one he knew. As Spencer turned to go down the next street he heard a series of gunshots, followed by a man in a blue shirt and navy slacks fall down to his knees, dead. Spencer ducked down by a large dumpster, hoping the man in the black suit with the cross tattooed on his hand hadn't noticed him. Spencer placed both his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming.

The librarian had just witnessed a murder.

After what felt like an eternity, Spencer scrambled to his feet, running as fast as he could to the nearest store to call the police. Sirens blared, but he could hardly hear them. His ears rung, and his heart had yet to slow down. The shops owner, one Jennifer Jareau, had offered the distraught man coffee and some company while the police told him to wait. Spencer appreciated the effort, but was too distressed to drink more than a few sips. Spencer had never seen a dead body before, nor a violent crime. He didn't know what to do or think.

"Why, um, why can't I go home?" Spencer asked, the first thing he had said in over and hour.

"We're waiting on Detective Morgan to come and interview you."

"But I've told you everything," Spencer rationalized. The police officer, Emily Prentiss, looked at him sympathetically before answering.

"We know."

Apparently, this Detective Morgan had been on the other side of town, stuck in midday traffic. Spencer felt agitated, he wanted to go home. He wanted to shower and to go to bed, and forget that this whole thing had ever happened. Finally, after much waiting, this Detective arrived. Spencer only stared at the man as he introduced himself.

"I want to go home," he said, once again stressing that he no longer wished to be there.

"Mr. Reid, I apologize for the wait, and I hate to do this to you, but I need you to come with me."

"What? Where?" Spencer questioned, this whole thing was so absurd.

"That's something I would like to discuss with you in private, sir."

Spencer smoothed his hand down his face, this wouldn't, couldn't possibly be a good thing. Detective Morgan escorted him out of the bakery and into an unmarked vehicle. Spencer could hardly readjust his shirt, his hands were still shaking. Detective Morgan took off his sunglasses before beginning to speak.

"Mr. Reid, we have every reason to believe that you witnessed a mob hit this morning."

"You don't say."

"This is serious, Mr. Reid. The man you described is a top enforcer for the Russian Mafia, and the man you witnessed being murdered was a vendor who owed some money." Spencer didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, all indicators were pointing to both. Detective Morgan merely stared at him, awaiting some sort of response. When Spencer didn't reply, Detective Morgan carried on, "You need to be placed into protective custody. Kebin has men everywhere, and not to scare you, but some witnesses in the past...have gone missing."

Spencer shook his head, staring blankly at his lap, "I'm not going into protective custody."

"Mr. Reid."

"No."

"You're a librarian, how do you possibly expect to protect yourself?" Detective Morgan had finally lost his patience. This man had killed over twenty people, seven of which had been key eye witnesses. This kid needed to understand what was on the line here,"You're a fool if you get out of this car."

"And you're a brute," Spencer replied, getting out.

"Officer Prentiss, would you mind escorting me home?" Spencer asked, desperate to get away from all of this.

"Yeah, sure," she answered, concern in her eyes as she lead the way to her patrol car. The only thing said between the two were directions to Spencer's flat and small chatter about the odd weather.

"Thanks," Spencer expressed his gratitude to the nice woman, waving at the officer as she drove out of sight.

Spencer stood in the shower till the hot water ran cold. There had been blood on the bottom of his shoes. The memory of that made him sick to his stomach, he had been relieved that they had taken the loafers in as evidence. Spencer took something for a headache before laying down on his sofa. He decided that he would call Shelly tomorrow, unsure of what he would tell the older woman.

Detective Morgan, Spencer had decided, was an rapacious brute. Who was he to arrive an hour late into Spencer's life and order him to go into hiding? Spencer sighed, all he wanted to do was to go back to his everyday life of structure and books. Murder ad the Russian Mafia was not something he wanted to know about. Spencer merely wanted to survive long enough to graduate.

Spencer awoke on time the next morning. The frail looking man took a quick shower before shaving his face and making his morning cup of coffee with extra sugar. The wind was still forceful, but the sun was out this fine day. In fact, Spencer would have completely forgotten about yesterdays events if it hadn't been for the two unmarked cop cars at either end of his block.

"Go away," he chided, staring at Detective Morgan as he ate a muffin and read the days newspaper at the bus stop.

"Afraid I can't do that," he answered, "and try not to draw too much attention to us, will you."

Spencer held his tongue and hurried his way onto the bus when it finally arrived. The librarian was relieved to see that the detective had not followed him. Spencer tried to take his mind off of things, cracking open a book only to close it shut a few seconds later. He needed to get to work and to class, and everything would be fine. Scanning his ID, Spencer logged into the schools system. There his work greeted him, and he felt a sense of comfort at the familiarity. This early, hardly anyone was around to bother him. This gave Spencer time to replace and reorganize most of the books dropped off into the return slot. Pushing along his cart, Spencer traveled down the familiar aisles.

Spencer heard a slight shuffling behind him, he turned on his heels, but no one was there. The young man figured he must be growing paranoid. Turning back around, he carried on with his work. One of the lights flickered on and off, and Spencer knew that he needed to change the lights. Abandoning his cart, Spencer headed towards the supply closet. Flipping the switch, Spencer lunged back as a man with a knife aimed to stab him. Letting out a shout, Spencer hit the large man across the head with a thick mathematics textbook. Tripping, Spencer fell onto his back, hitting his head against the carpeted floor. The man pounced on Spencer, attempting to stab him as he put his hands up to defend himself. Suddenly, his attacker was off of him, struggling with someone else on the ground.

Thinking quickly, Spencer grabbed another hard covered book, hitting the man in the head and upper back while kicking him. Spencer's eyes went wide as he recognized Detective Morgan as the other man grappling on the ground. With the knife out of reach, Detective Morgan was able to subdue the large oaf. Only after the man was handcuffed did Spencer realize he was bleeding profusely from both of his hands. Detective Morgan radioed in for back up and the paramedics, assisting Spencer out of the library as the entire campus was put on lock down.

Spencer bit his lip as the paramedic, Jordan Todd, bandaged his wounds in the Dean's office. Never, in all of his years here, had Dean Hotchner witnessed something like this. This was an excellent school, and safe campus. Now, everything was up in the air. He didn't know what to think about all of this.

"Mind me asking what's going on here?"

"I'd rather you not," Detective Morgan responded, and that was the end of that.

"You're lucky, you know. That guy back there has over fifteen names to his resume," Detective Morgan scolded. Spencer didn't respond to that. In fact, he was rather detached to the entire situation at hand. He was forced, once again, to give a statement. Spencer looked Detective Morgan over, beside a bruise on the left side of his face, he appeared to be quite fine. That was good, he supposed.

"I guess I'm not going home, then?"

"Absolutely not. I'm moving you to a hotel room where you will be placed under twenty-four hour surveillance."

"Are you sure I'm a victim here, because you're treating me like a criminal."

"It's for your own safety."

Spencer was instructed only to grab his essentials. Afterward, he was escorted by four police officers to a hotel in a different part of the city. Detective Morgan designated himself as Spencer's personal bodyguard. The entire time, Spencer attempted to keep numb to this drastic change. He was often tired, but could not close his eyes longer than a few minutes at a time.

Spencer wished he had had someone else to keep him company. Detective Morgan hardly spoke, and when he did, it was mainly to instruct Spencer to do something or ask him what he wanted to eat for the night. Spencer had his books to keep him occupied, but the knot in his stomach was constantly there, reminding him that there were people out there who were trying to kill him. Taking a bite out of his burger, he watched the television half interestedly. A soap opera of some sort, Spencer concluded.

"You would think they would have something more interesting," he mused, not expecting a response.

"Really. It doesn't matter what hotel you stay at, the only channel that seems to come in is the soap channel," Detective Morgan laughed, and even Spencer gave an agreeing chuckle. Four days had passed since their incident at the library, and Spencer didn't know how much more he could take of this. Spencer knew that this was only the beginning.

"Are they any closer to finding Kebin or his men?" Spencer questioned, and it was the first time he had brought the case up.

"They've been able to capture two of his men, not including Alexander Panova, but Kebin is one allusive SOB with connections and hideouts everywhere imaginable," the Detective responded. Spencer only nodded his understanding.

"We'll catch him."

"Don't you get tired of Chinese food?" Morgan questioned, staring at Spencer as he ate yet another carton of pork fried rice.

"Honestly, no."

Two weeks had now passed, and Spencer had to admit, Derek as he had come to call him, was bearable after all. When two individuals were forced to spend this much time together in a cramped space, Spencer supposed you would either kill each other or eventually get along. The librarian was glad to see that the later had happened in this case. It made his time here a little more bearable.

"Do you normally befriend the people you're meant to watch?"

"Honestly, no, and I'm not watching you. I'm protecting you," Derek responded.

"Watching and protecting seem to be a lot alike, you know."

"Whatever."

"Don't you have a wife or family to go home to? They must not like you being gone all of the time," Spencer pondered openly, hoping he hadn't crossed a line.

"No family of my own. I don't think people who work in this field have existing relationships outside of work, to be honest," he said, a smile to his lips but sadness in his eyes.

"You would have to be dedicated to helping people to do this type of work. You've must have helped a lot of people," Spencer spoke.

"A few, I think."

"Well, you're helping me," Spencer added, smiling gratefully at the man sat on the opposite bed. Derek smiled back at him.

"What about you? Do you have a significant other?"

"No. I don't think I've ever had a boy...someone special," Spencer admitted, embarrassed that he had almost let that slip. Spencer was not ashamed of his sexual orientation, but he never found publicizing it to strangers commendable, at least in his experience.

Spence knew nothing of Derek, not really. He didn't know his sexual orientation or beliefs. Derek could be a bible thumping Christian who, when he found out, would think Spencer was the work of the Devil. Derek only looked at him oddly, pondering the strange look that had come over the slender mans face. Spencer hadn't meant to make things so uncomfortable.

"You okay?"

"Just fine."

"Garcia, anything?"

Spencer could hear Derek ask again over the phone. He pretended to be asleep in his bed, covers tucked under his chin. Three more days had passed, and Kebin's trail had practically gone cold. Spencer didn't know whether to be concerned or relieved about the news. He knew that Derek was frustrated and there was nothing he could do.

"I know your awake," Derek informed him, Spencer rolled over to look at the man. Derek sat down beside him, sighing disappointingly. Personal space had seemingly gone out the window. Spencer patted his hand with his own, offering some comfort. Derek smiled a little, rustling the other mans hair. This was slowly becoming their norm, which was completely and utterly_ not _okay.

"I think we're spending too much time together," Spencer spoke, a touch of humor in his voice laced with seriousness.

"I know," Derek replied.

That night, Spencer fell asleep only for his former dreams to reappear. Dark shadows crept in on him, distorted voices screaming his name. The normally indifferent feeling he had to these dreams were replaced by an overwhelming fear. The shadows kept getting closer and closer, making Spencer feel smothered. Spencer felt trapped with no way out.

Spencer was stirred awake by two strong hands on his shoulders. Spencer attempted to catch his breath as his eyes snapped open, staring up at Derek confoundedly. Spencer gripped the other mans forearm for leverage as he attempted to stand up.

"You shouldn't stand up, lay down. What happened?"

Spencer felt dizzy, really dizzy as he tried to focus on the man in front of him, "I don't know. It was a dream. A bad dream."

"A dream about what?"

"I don't remember. I just felt...like I couldn't breath."

Spencer explained as he leaned backwards, unintentionally bringing Derek with him. Derek didn't seem to mind, however, as he willing settled down beside him. Spencer's heart rate had increased, Derek could feel it racing under the palm of his hand. Spencer had a cold sweat sheen over his chest, and his face felt clammy. Spencer could only stare at him helplessly as he leaned in to kiss him.

Spencer was taken aback at first, but eventually responded to Derek's insistent mouth. Spencer had no idea what possessed the other man to kiss him, whether from worry or exhaustion, but he wasn't going to question it. Derek's hands cupped either side of his face, bringing him closer, tongue seeking a way in as they lost themselves to sensation. Rolling over onto his back, Spencer pulled Derek atop of him, hands searching the span of the other mans back, marveling at the muscular form so unlike his own. Derek placed his hands on either side of Spencer's head, dark eyes peering down at him.

"That sort of came out of no where, sorry," he apologized, rolling off of Spencer, but remaining on the bed next to him.

"It's okay. It's a lot more than okay, actually," Spencer confessed, slightly embarrassed. He wasn't use to being so straight forward.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sorry. I've been dying to do that for a while now," Derek spoke, a large grin to his symmetrical features.

"Do you always kiss the people put under your care?"

"Only the pretty ones."

Garcia called the following afternoon with a hot tip. Apparently, Kebin had been spotted but nothing beside crucial information was disclosed to Spencer. Officer Prentiss had arrived, politely ordering the man to come with her. Spencer turned to Derek, realizing that he wasn't coming with them. "What are you doing? Where are you going?" he questioned, nervous for the first time since the two had been paired together.

"I have to lead my team. Kebin is...I have to do my job and bring him in."

Reality set in for Spencer at that moment. This was Derek's job. This was his profession: to apprehend some of the most dangerous real life villains known to man. Derek was risking his life, they all were, to put a murderer behind bars. Spencer sucked in a breath, he knew that he needed to be strong. His affection for Derek could not get in the way.

"Go get him," was the only thing he could muster without sounding like some lovestruck fool.

"Morgan's good at what he does," Emily commented after the duo had arrived at the station. Spencer smiled at her appreciatively, she was an attractive woman.

Emily introduced Spencer to her partner, Officer Ashley Seaver, and their Captain, David Rossi. Spencer tried his hardest to keep his mind off of things, but there was only so much he could do within eighteen hours without getting repetitive. He knew that Kebin being captured would not be the end of his troubles. In fact, it would only serve as the beginning! There would be a trial and he would be forced to testify.

Spencer's thoughts were making him nervous and quite uneasy. What if he couldn't do it, he thought. That wasn't an option, though. Spencer couldn't flee from this. Kebin had left so many victims in his wake. So many innocent people had been killed or left for dead because of him and his thirst for power and hunger for money.

"We need to go," Emily spoke hurriedly, grabbing Spencer by his upper arm and rushing him out the door.

"What's wrong?"

"They've got Kebin, but Morgan's been hurt."

"Hurt. How hurt is hurt?"

"I don't know, that's why we're leaving."

The two of them ran into the emergency room, Emily showing the charge nurse her badge as she demanded to see Derek. The petite woman escorted them back, explaining that Derek had been shot through the right shoulder, but would make a full recovery. Spencer was relieved by the news as the nurse drew back the curtains, revealing the injured man in question. Derek was hooked up to all sorts of machines, smiling groggily at them as they entered. Spencer was not smiling, but then again, he didn't have morphine pumping through his system either.

"You're one lucky man, Derek Morgan," Emily scorned, grasping his hand in hers.

Spencer couldn't speak; he couldn't say anything at all even though a thousand thoughts plagued his mind. Derek could have been killed, or more seriously injured than he had been. Thoughts about how coldly Victor Lavrov had been murdered right on the street as though he were nothing but trash. Death or the possibility of were beginning to grate on Spencer's nerves. This wasn't suppose to be his life.

Spencer only wanted to work at his Universities library to earn enough money to keep him there. He only wanted to graduate next Spring and hopefully land a job that would allow him to teach bright yearning students. Those things did not include death. Those things did not involve murder, or a criminal underbelly much larger than anyone could ever imagine.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Emily spoke, interrupting his train of thought. Spencer barely had enough time to grasp what she meant before the woman was out the door.

"We got him."

"You got shot."

"I made a mistake."

"You got shot," Spencer repeated, approaching.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that."

Spencer was disturbed at the fact that Derek didn't seem bothered by this. With his good arm, Derek patted the spot beside him, indicating to Spencer that he wanted him to sit down next to him. Spencer pushed aside his own concern to focus on Derek. Running his thumb over one of his arched brows, Spencer noticed how tired he looked.

"Why don't you get some rest?" he questioned, placing a chaste kiss to the other mans forehead.

"I've tried, but I can't. Listen, Spencer, you can't be mad at me for doing my job," he said, staring at him.

"I'm not mad at you for doing your job. I'm mad that you got shot. I'm mad that you have to deal with people like Kebin," Spencer acknowledged.

"Unless you do what I do and see what I see, I don't expect you to understand, and I hope you don't. It's not an easy life, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Spencer looked down at their joined hands. Derek was right, and he realized just how selfish and naive he had sounded. Spencer still felt a pain at the thought of losing someone who had become so important to him I such a short time. This definitely was not the way things were suppose to go. If they hadn't, though, Spencer would have never met the brute sat beside him.

"And do you see that man in this court room, today?" questioned the prosecutor. Seven months ago and Spencer would have never been able to do this. As such, he was now confident in himself and his ability to do the right thing.

With a calming breath, Spencer pointed an accusing finger at the man sat at the defendants table, "That's him. Alexander Panova shot and killed Victor Lavrov."

This chapter of Spencer's life was finally coming to a close. With his testimony, and the help of other witnesses who stepped forward, the Russian Mafia was brought to its knees. While the organization would never go away completely, it's operation was hindered long enough for changes to be made.

"You did great," Derek greeted him, shoulder fully recovered now. The two walked out of the courthouse, ignoring the hounding reporters that threw numerous questions at them.

"Thanks."

"Any plans for tonight?"

"Not really. I have two term papers to write...but I'm sure they can wait."

Derek laughed, the trial was almost over, and they could properly see each other. They had grown even closer than they had previously, and they were learning more about themselves and each other.

"Feel like grabbing some Chinese food?"

"You know you don't have to ask," Spencer answered, causing Derek to smile. With their hands in their pockets, they carried onward with this new day.


End file.
